


Why do you still have that picture?

by mee4ever



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, Falling In Love, High School, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jocks, M/M, i don't even know what to tag, or falling back in love more like it, this is a minewt fic, thomas is an ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 22:51:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7380673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mee4ever/pseuds/mee4ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The runners weren’t exactly mean to him. They never threw him a fit or commented on his leg or pushed him into lockers, but they never greeted him either. Didn't talk to him anymore. Most of the time Newt felt invisible whenever he would pass Minho or Thomas or Ben in the corridor. Like Newt never had existed to them. It stung, because those boys had painfully existed to him and were still the ones smiling out of the picture frame on his nightstand. He couldn't make himself change it.</p><p>Or the one where Newt is no longer on the track team because he's got a limp now and of course he's paired up with his former teammate and first crush, Minho, for a huge ass project.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why do you still have that picture?

**Author's Note:**

> I am pretty sure this is something [Lovi](http://evilqueenofslytherin.tumblr.com/) has commissioned but it was soooo long ago since I started it so I have literally no idea. Anyhow, enjoy.

There was no other school in the whole world where the _track team_ was the royalty. The bloody track team. It wasn't like Newt was jealous. It really wasn't. He was long over the fact that he'd been on the team, that he'd run them into the big league and then never had been able to run again. The fractures from his broken leg had forced him horizontal for over two months and then there had been all the physical therapy and he still had a limp that just wouldn't shake. He lost pretty much all of his friends when he wasn’t able to run anymore. The track team had been his second home, the runners his second family and now he couldn't do what they did best. But no. He was not jealous. He was just wondering how their high school’s baseball team and lacrosse team and football team and wrestling team could be such dorks that the track team was the biggest, baddest jocks. Shuck like that only happened in small town Gladesville, Louisiana, he figured and wondered (not for the first time) why his parents thought this was a better place than the British Isles.

The runners weren’t exactly mean to him. They never threw him a fit or commented on his leg or pushed him into lockers, but they never greeted him either. Didn't talk to him anymore. Most of the time Newt felt invisible whenever he would pass Minho or Thomas or Ben in the corridor. Like Newt never had existed to them. It stung because those boys had painfully existed to him and were still the ones smiling out of the picture frame on his nightstand. He couldn't make himself change it.

“I have not made a list of partners for this project, please choose your own,” said no teacher ever because that doesn't seem to be a thing they know is possible to do. So there was a list. And there was Newt’s name when he finally got a look at it. There was Minho’s name next to his. _Bloody…_

Minho didn't approach him. So Newt decided that he needed to take the bull by its horns and stepped up to Minho sitting by a desk, drawing what looked like dicks on a piece of paper. He cleared his throat and was struck by how dry it felt. He hated it because there had been a time when Minho had been his best friend, when they had run together every day, seeing if they could memorize all paths in the woods next to where Newt lived; there had been a time when Newt had thought that maybe they were on the verge of being something _more._  None of that was relevant nowadays, though, so Newt should just forget about it, do the project and then everything could go back their latest status quo.

“So it looks like we're partners,” Newt managed to get himself to say. Minho only answered with an _mhm,_ looking very engrossed in his drawing. His gaze wander soon, though, followed a girl’s legs out the door as he called ‘ _see you tomorrow, Theresa’_ and Newt snorted quietly. No way Theresa would go for Minho; she'd had her eyes in the general direction of _girls_ for as long as Newt could remember. Fact also was that Minho was already taken. Newt turned back to the Asian boy in front of him.

“I have a few ideas,” he started but Minho waved him quiet.

“I'll come to your house tomorrow, you'll tell me about it, yeah?” He still hadn't looked up at Newt but Newt couldn't do anything but shrug his shoulders.

“Whatever, mate,” he said and regretted using the word. Minho might have been his friend two years ago but now, senior year, he definitely was not. They weren't even acquaintances. He walked away before Minho could react.

Minho and Thomas had been the first open same-sex couple in school. Not gay couple, because as Minho put it: “He could be cheating with both the gents and the ladies if anyone was interested”. Thomas had rolled his eyes and Minho had grinned like he'd owned the world. From what Newt knew through gossip, though,  _Thomas_ was the one that couldn't keep it in his pants. Newt had watched their relationship from far away, pushed down the jealousy that hit him whenever Thomas would steal a kiss from Minho’s lips. It’s was a stupid crush anyway.

“I thought we could build a maze.” Minho was at his house. Sitting at his kitchen table. It was a sight that shouldn't make Newt feel like he was fourteen again, because he really wasn't, but it still did. Minho didn't look too uncomfortable but he kept texting on his phone. Newt didn't complain; the less eye contact they had, the better. His words had a way bigger effect than he could've ever anticipated; Minho’s eyes snapped up to his and the boy looked _intrigued._

“A maze, huh?” He sounded like he genuinely like the idea.

“Yeah, I was thinking...” Newt started but then he didn't know if he could say the rest. Decided that there was no reason to be afraid. This was going to be awkward whatever he said.

“I was thinking about… um… _old times,"_ he continued and started to blush. He couldn't make himself look the other boy in the eye any longer, “and remembered that we used to memorize the forest but we never actually mapped anything out. I thought it could serve as a start at least.” Minho contemplated this for a while and Newt dared throw him a glance. He swore under his breath because the raven haired boy looked too good for his own best. Before Newt stared for too long, Minho clapped his hands together suddenly and it made him flinch.

“So how you wanna do it?” He asked, seemingly ready to start, right then and there.

“I'll draw the maze and-”

“I can't help draw the maze?” Minho looked like he neither was expecting to be excluded from that part of the project nor let it stay like that.

“I just thought…”

“I love puzzles,” Minho said. _I know,_ Newt thought and his mind went back to the 5 000 piece jigsaw they'd spent a week of summer break doing once. One summer that felt like a lifetime ago. He decided not to correct Minho and say that a maze technically wasn't a puzzle at all.

“Okay,” he finally said out loud, “sure, you can help with the preparations too. It's gonna be more time on your part, though?” Minho shrugged like his schedule wasn't fully booked. Newt had the feeling that it actually was. He wasn’t sure if it was a good or a bad thing Minho wanted to give the project ( _Newt?_ ) more time than necessary.

Just because Minho did a project with Newt for one class, didn’t mean that he talked to Newt in school, like before. Nope. It only meant they had an assignment together. It made it more pathetic that Newt couldn’t help feeling like he was walking on clouds every time Minho said something to him from across the table in his kitchen or accidentally brushed an arm to Newt’s when they were walking around the six-foot big maze they were in the process of drawing. The idea was that they drew the maze on the paper and then glued a million - give or take - toothpicks, point down, to the strokes. They’d started in the middle and Newt had explained where in the woods he was picturing it, Minho catching up like he’d been in the woods just two days ago. He’d come to Newt’s house a couple of times already, for a few hours at a time and it hadn’t been as tense as Newt would’ve thought. They talked more and more every time, less and less about how they were approaching the maze, more about life in general. The fifth time Minho was over, he practically didn’t work anything, just sat with his feet on the table and hands behind his head, telling stories and laughing. Newt focused as good as he could on the finishing touches to the lines but the funnier the stories got, the more he had to put the pen down and break into loud, doubled over laughter. He couldn’t remember the last time he laughed like that.

“You got any smokes up there?” Minho gestured towards where Newt’s room used to be, on the floor above them. He pointed to the door on the opposite side of the corridor and said:

“Moved down. But there might be a pack in the drawer if you want to look.“ He waved to say “or whatever”; Minho rose and went to Newt’s room. He didn't specify which drawer, it seemed like Minho didn't need a reminder. He came back empty handed and looking kind of wrecked.

“You can just go down the block to buy a pack,” Newt said. Minho mhm:ed him without looking up. Newt could feel that the other boy wanted to tell or ask him something and tried to be patient. When the words didn't come for over ten minutes though, that was just a little too much for that patience.

“You spit it out, will you?”

“Why do you... “ Minho trailed off after being shocked into starting. Newt rolled his eyes.

“Why do you still have that picture?” Newt pressed his lips onto at thin line. The only picture he had in his room was the one on his nightstand. Four laughing boys. A desperate attempt to hold on to something he lost ages ago.  

“I don't really have many others to choose from,” he managed to get out through gritted teeth. His voice sounded pathetic even to himself when he'd tried going for somewhat comical. Minho didn’t say anything more that day. He sat down on his stool and drew some lines, that Newt later erased because they were too close to some other ones. When the other boy started tapping his fingers on the table, Newt said that it was getting late and maybe they should start the gluing some other day. Minho nodded. Left. And Newt felt like the day had gone from being really on top for once to back in the gutter in the blink of an eye.

There was a knock on the door, right when Newt had come back from school the next day. He’d just sat his ass down in his bed and was not planning on leaving for the rest of the day. His leg hurt like hell and he considered ignoring the person who disturbed him. But then there was now banging on the front door. And there was the sound of the doorbell being punched over and over. Newt sighed. He waited for only a couple of seconds more, to be sure whoever wanted to come in wouldn’t stop want to come in, before rising to his feet and stagger out. When he opened the door, Minho winced pass him saying:

“Alright if I come in?” They hadn’t planned to work on the project today. Newt wondered if this was a… social call? He turned to Minho who now stood, jittery and he looked kind of small. Minho took a deep breath, Newt felt himself doing so too, but Minho spoke first.

“After the… accident-”

“You mean my failed suicide attempt?” He hadn’t really meant to say it, somehow it had just flung out of him. Minho looked like this was information he'd only assumed was true up till that point. It was, Newt realised, since it had been ruled a “terrible accident” after Newt had convinced necessary parties and had then been told that way to everyone else. He exhaled.

“Yes. I kept away because-” Newt didn't want to hear, so he interrupted again. He'd heard the rumors that he'd voluntary got hit, even if every adult talked about it as an “accident”, and that Newt was fucked in the head.

“You don't have to tell me. I know, you couldn't be associated with the mentally disturbed kid who jumped in front of cars. I get it. Not like I wanted to be my friend either.” This short conversation had really gotten out of Newt’s hands, it was the most he'd ever shared with anyone about _that_. Ever. He hadn't even talked to his therapist about this. He'd said that _yes_ , he thought about dying, killing himself and _no_ , he hadn't meant to be hit by a SAAB on his way to school. To admit it out loud, for the first time, almost two years after, made his head spin and he wondered how Minho always got the truth out of him without even trying. His legs were going to give up at any moment.

“No, you don't get it!” Minho’s eyes boiled with sudden rage and he was all flushed. Newt sobered up quickly enough to understand every word that came through the other boy’s mouth.

“I thought you were happy, I thought you were fine and I didn't see any of your depression or suicidal tendencies and then you… And I couldn't be near you because I thought I was part of the problem. I never wanted to be able to hurt you in any way ever again, so I kept my distance, and then you couldn't come back to track, so I... “ His voice stopped making sounds but his lips kept moving. The anger had washed off him as quickly as it had blossomed and Newt understood that he wasn’t mad at Newt; he was frustrated with himself, disappointed. Because he cared. He had cared so bloody much and thought he’d done the right thing and...

“You were not part of the problem,” Newt said quietly. “You could never be part of any problem.”

They went at the maze because they didn’t know what else to do. They worked for hours at end, talking quietly and slowly building their maze at the same time as they rebuilt their friendship. It was no longer fun in the sort of sense that Newt couldn’t breathe of laughter, but it was good-natured and wasn’t really anything else Newt wanted to do. Being around Minho somehow felt like being around himself again, someone he’d lost years ago and could finally see again with his own eyes, could touch. Not that he did. On purpose. It was just that when you maneuvered a huge gun that poured out glue at a temperature of a thousand degrees, sometimes you misplaced a finger and dipped it right in the bloody glue. That part, was not on purpose. He screamed at first, mostly of the shock than of actual pain but Minho rushed forward and guided him to the facet, drowning his hand in cold water from the tap. Alternately cursing and muttering Newt realised that he was very close to Minho. Like. Closer than he’d been since forever. It made him shut up. When Minho asked if it still hurt, he nodded. It did. A little. He might also have pretended that the burn was worse than it was just so that Minho would hold his hands for a bit longer.

In a few short weeks, they grew back to each other. It was like a healing wound, one of those you can’t help but scratch over and over. Newt fed on Minho’s attention like he’d starved for years and it took him a long time realise that that was exactly how it was. He'd not wanted their relationship to turn into nothing, and after finding out that neither had actually Minho, it was easy. The first time Minho greeted him in school, Newt felt like he could finally breathe after staying under water for too long. He didn’t want to put so much of his happiness in somebody else’s hands but it was hard not to. Minho was just there. And once Minho started greeting Newt, the others followed suit. First Ben, then Thomas and both “hello”:s sent jolts through Newt’s body, nervous and excited. He didn’t think he would ever get his best mates back, no, but he thought maybe they could have some sort of friendship at least.

He wasn’t wrong. But he wasn’t exactly right either.

Thomas was… possessive. He didn’t mind hanging out with Newt, even liked it, that much was clear but he did not like that Newt was hanging out with Minho when it was just the two of them. Minho stormed into Newt’s house one night, boiling to the brim and shouting about his boyfriend. It was the moment that Newt understood how much of his old feelings had come back. Hearing Minho talk about “boyfriend” and that “boyfriend” not being Newt felt like a punch in the face. Listening in to what Minho actually cursed about said boyfriend, on second thought it maybe was a good thing he wasn’t in Thomas’s shoes. He tried calming Minho down, without actually apologizing for Thomas’s behavior - which he silently thought was childish and hypocritical - and it took a better part of an hour before Minho’s breathing was back to normal.

“He doesn’t want me to see you,” Minho said then and Newt froze. Minho sat on the couch and Newt was pacing about, cleaning off the living room table. He had his back to Minho and slowly he put the book he was holding into the shelf.

“Why?” He asked casually as he could manage. Minho threw his hands out in an exasperated gesture when Newt glanced at him over his shoulder.

“Who knows, man? He thinks we’re screwing or something.” Newt turned away again, decidedly not thinking about screwing Minho. Instead, he asked whether Minho had told Thomas that they, in fact, were not. Minho nodded frantically.

“Of course I have! He won’t listen; he thinks I’m a bloody cheater.”

“Takes one to know one,” Newt muttered. Just typically of Thomas.

“What?” Newt shook his head and turned red. He didn’t think they were really in such a good position to have _that_ conversation yet. They’d only been talking again for a few weeks. Newt asked instead if Minho wanted to finish the maze and sighing he agreed.

It only got more strained after that. Newt’s feelings for Minho deepened and they probably seeped out more than he would’ve wanted, which in turn made Thomas even more on edge around Newt; without really addressing the matter with Newt directly. Minho was grumpy all the time when Thomas was around and somehow both Ben and Newt became the awkward middle parties and that was the thing that brought them together again. On a particularly moody-teenage-angst-day between the couple, Ben rolled his eyes and raised his eyebrows towards Newt, an invitation and Newt nodded because whatever Ben was offering, it was better than Thomas and Minho’s brooding. They left the pair at the lunch table, to the couple’s despair, and went outside to watch the lacrosse team practice.

“You okay?” Ben asked.

“Better than those two,” Newt answered and they both snorted. The question held more than any of them let on but at the same time it wasn’t more than that, it didn’t have to be. Ben had been the first person Newt had told he was gay, proceeded by the notion that he thought he might be in love with Minho. Ben got it; even if Newt hadn’t grown his feelings back for Minho, the whole thing still probably would’ve hurt. They hugged, quick but hard and Newt declined with another snort when Ben offered to pretend to be his boyfriend just for Thomas to calm the fuck down.

Minho totally held his ground towards Thomas because he hung out with Newt like it wasn’t any sort of problem. During school, after school, anytime they could really. Newt had missed having him around and Minho easily fit into his life; not like before, but in a new way that was even better.

There was a movie, there was a blanket, there was a bowl of popcorn and there was Minho and Newt propped up on Minho’s couch. Of course there had to be the longest suicide scene in the film and Newt felt himself turn rigid. It was nothing like how it had gone down with him; he's hadn't been much of a decision with time to think about the consequences. He'd stood on the sidewalk and then he had not. He jumped when Minho’s hand gently brushed over his own and he refused to look the other boy in the eye. Instead, he looked at their hands as Minho intertwined their fingers.

“Hey,” Minho whispered.

“I'm okay,” Newt said flatly but it didn't seem to convince Minho as he kept holding his hand. It was soothing but also exciting and every time Minho would rub his thumb up Newt’s it sent electricity through his whole body. Minho kept them like that for the rest of the movie and Newt was unsure whether it was because he wanted to or whether he forgot that it was _Newt_ he was holding hands with. It didn't matter. It made Newt stupid either way.

They were standing in the kitchen, waiting for the oven to heat up enough for them to put in the pizzas they'd made. They joked and snickered. He could still somehow still feel the tingle in his hand where Minho had touched him and he couldn't stop thinking about it. They were close, Newt reflected. Minho stopped moving, Newt reflected. His lips were slightly apart, he was looking at Newt, Newt wanted nothing more than to kiss him. Newt found himself leaning forward and was way too close when Minho shut him down.

“I'm still with Thomas; and that cheating thing I said that one time was just a joke,” he breathed.

“Oh my god, I know, I'm sorry. I totally understand, shit. I’m so sorry.” Newt babbled as he staggered backwards. He did know and he did understand. Really, he did and it wasn't like he could ask Minho to do anything for him, it wasn't like Newt _wanted_ to be ‘the other one’. He wanted to be the first one. At the same time, he wanted to tell Minho that there were seconds in Thomas’s life already. That Minho could just have one second, Newt for a second. Maybe an hour. But of course, he understood. He understood that Minho didn’t want _that_. What he _didn't_ understand was, that despite it all, Minho still came forth, grabbed his shoulders and kissed him anyway. A pair of solid and practiced lips against Newt’s trembling and inexperienced ones. It was heaven; it was hell. Because it was Minho, because it was _Minho_. It wasn’t Minho who was his, it was a kiss that was two and a half years too late because it wasn’t Minho’s first kiss when it should’ve been. But then Newt shook himself. Minho was literally kissing him, _right now_ , and fuck if he was going to let his brain take that awesome thing away from him. He puckered his lips against Minho’s who went from pressing to gently brushing his mouth against Newts. It was the barest touch but it sent shivers down Newt’s spine, making him feel like he would topple over at any given moment. The feeling should’ve disappeared but only intensified as Minho pulled him against himself, holding him upright and locking him in with kisses. As Minho opened his mouth, Newt followed suit and when the first darting lick of the other boys tongue met Newt’s own tongue, he realised that this was real and happening. That was also when he stopped giving a shit about what he did was how you were supposed to do it and just freaking snogged Minho back. He was rewarded by a low whimper that went straight to his dick. Minho pulled away slightly, looked Newt in the eye for a second and gasped:

“I should probably not do this,” and dove right back into Newt’s face. After exploring each other's mouths for minutes, or you know, maybe an hour (how would Newt know?) they parted and breathed, just looking at each other.

“Hey,” Minho said after an eternity.

“Hi,” Newt answered and they dimpled, almost shyly, towards each other.

Minho did something that Newt never thought he would. He broke up with Thomas. He made it a big, public affair. Accused Thomas of one thing here and another thing there, Thomas dumbfound enough to not even come with excuses, apologies, explanations. Nothing at all. Minho ended it all by walking away with his nose in the air. Newt ran after him and ignored the hollering and wolf whistles. When he finally caught up with Minho, they were almost at Minho’s house. Minho was a runner after all and Newt had his limp. The black haired boy had slowed to a saunter and Newt fell into step with him. They didn’t say anything before the door to Minho’s house was closed. Newt tried saying something first, but he only got as far as “ehm” and “um”s and that wouldn’t really take them anywhere.

“You knew he was cheating on me?” Minho asked. His voice only tinged of accusation. Newt was too perplexed to answer anything.

“Of course you did, everyone does.” Minho kicked the floor with the underside of his shoe.

“I didn’t think it was my place to tell you. I don’t really know the customs on how to tell someone they’re partner is being unfaithful, especially without it sounding like reasons for said person to dump its partner.”

“I don’t know either. I don’t blame you.” Minho scoffed and huffed. “It’s not like you had to tell me anyhow.”

“So… you knew too?” Newt asked tentatively.

“About Harriet?” Minho retorted; Newt didn’t know what else to do than nod.

“Yes. And Sonya? Yes. And Aris? Yeah. He got around. I knew.”

“So why did you stay with him?”

“I was the one he always came back to, you know? Thought that meant something. Thought _I_ meant something.” Then Minho was crying. Newt pulled him into an insecure hug, but when Minho fell against him and sobbed into his shoulder, Newt held on tight. It was a weird ass situation. Minho meant so much to Newt he didn’t even know how to convey it all and he was shaken to the core that Minho had let himself be treated the way he had by Thomas. He felt ashamed for not talking with Minho about it all before all of this. Before they… kissed and before things got even more complicated. He let Minho take his time, petted his hair and told him that things were okay even if it didn’t really feel like it.

They talked for the rest of the day. Into the night. During the night. It was morning when Minho fell asleep in Newt’s arms and Newt was not used to sleeping next to anyone so he couldn’t doze off, even as tired as he was. He wasn’t exactly sad about that; he had his eyes closed and his arm around Minho and Minho was breathing slowly and made small, small noises every once in a while that made Newt’s heart swell.

It was fairly simple to take things easy and slow. The two of them fell into comfortableness and held back as soon as things went too far for either of them. Minho asked for space in school, Newt asked for time before they moved further sexually but things… rolled on. It was amazing. Newt made sure to tell Minho small things, like how he appreciated that he came over so Newt didn’t have to walk all the way to his house, how much he liked Minho’s new haircut, how the kisses he placed on Newt’s body made him boneless. Every positive thing he could think of, immediately as he thought of them. Minho gulped them all down with hunger and made his kisses extra sweet. They finished the maze in the first week of exploring what they could have together and when they turned the project in, in the following week, there was an overload of praise from their teacher. Smug and proud was just the two most prominent feelings that rolled off the pair.

It took about a month before Minho started grabbing Newt’s hand in school and the first time he did, Newt blushed so hard Minho laughed at him all day. Hand holding was a recurring thing after that and Newt probably beamed like a thousand suns every time it happened but he couldn’t hold himself and Minho always got a _look_ in his eye when he looked at Newt’s radiating smile. As a couple, they did brilliantly. As a group of friends (Ben included of course), things were a bit off. They saw Thomas in the dining hall every day. It was weird because he didn’t have many other friends other then the three of them so he sat by himself most days and sometimes his little cousin Chuck. It was strange to not have him around, even if Minho and he had broken up, and Minho thought so too. It had always been the four of them and Ben confessed that it hadn’t been right when Newt hadn’t been joining them either and now they’d gotten Newt back but lost Thomas instead. They didn’t talk about inviting Thomas to join them; Ben and Newt had decided that Minho was the one who needed to start that conversation.

One day, Thomas looked towards their table when they were already seated and Thomas just had gotten his tray. It was the first time Newt had seen him look their way and he felt a sudden rush of anxiety because Minho’s fingers were entwined with his. And Thomas must see it. Then something interesting happened: Thomas walked up to them.

“Morning,” he said as he sat his tray, not looking at either of them.

“Hi,” the three of them answered and Minho caught Newt’s eye. They didn’t say much throughout the meal but it wasn’t as awkward as Newt had thought it would’ve been. Minho clutched his hand, gave him an encouraging smile and Newt thought that maybe this what was reconciliation felt like. Not to be forgiven, not for them to forget but it was a plead to bury the axe and a plead for moving on. Thomas and Minho shared a single glance and looked away before saying anything. It was a start; it was a second chance and Newt felt happy that there was such a thing because as he held Minho’s hand in his own, he didn’t even want to think about how things would’ve been if _he_ hadn’t gotten one.

**Author's Note:**

> Like my stuff? [Buy me a coffee!](https://www.buymeacoffee.com/mee4ever)


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